


Black And Silver

by Introverted_Cupcake_x



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Bath Time, M/M, Mafia AU, Naked Cuddling, a lil warm-up for me on my other story, all I know about the prohibition is that america tried to be sober but failed, casual mention of background death that isn't shown, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introverted_Cupcake_x/pseuds/Introverted_Cupcake_x
Summary: 1950s New York is a rough place to be if you're in the mafia, working for a corrupt politician or both. It is also a rough spot to be in if you happen to work for one of the richest congressmen in the world and have fallen hopelessly in love with a smuggler, who you happen to help fake their death in order to save them.





	Black And Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This is merely a one-off oneshot that I likely won't expand on but it was fun working on it.
> 
> All characters are 18+

Cutlery clinked and the chairs screech as the occupants in the restaurant stood up from where they sat at the largest table. Peanut and Norton, in their heavy jackets, warily watched as two gentlemen strolled inside the closed restaurant, one with a fedora that hid his face while the other was strangely hatless with his brunette hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping off his waxed trenchcoat. The blonde male tilted his hat up as he fixed a glare at one of the men - the only one sitting back in his seat with his legs crossed and his own gun resting on the table beside his drink.

“I’ve got word that you lost the shipment, Vincent” the blonde man spoke lightly, in spite of his apparent fury. “My friend from the police said that Fleet Street was like a warzone and the press are all over the place.”

“It’ll be that lot from downtown interferin’ with our routes,” the tall brunette said, “or are ya still too blind to see that you’re not the only dealer of that bootlegged whisky in this part o’ town, Derby?”

Peanut glanced at the brunette beside Derby, not liking how he took a step away from his side. He immediately aimed a pistol at him.

“No funny business!” he snapped and moved so that he stood between Johnny and Derby’s companion.

“Oh, he won’t do anything,” Derby said breezily.

“Peanut, sit down, for God’s sake,” Johnny rolled his eyes, “we don’t start fights until we can find someone to blame for this mess.”

“Nice to see you still have brains since we left college,” Derby commented, “no, Gord here is the reason why I’m really here tonight. Where is that Medici fellow anyway?”

The sudden question got Norton and Peanut glancing at their boss, who remained stony-faced.

“What would we know? We’re still looking for him.”

“So…” Derby frowned, gesturing at them in a confused manner, “you haven’t kidnapped one of your own?”

“No,” Johnny said strongly and stood up calmly, “but we’re suspecting you since yer blaming us for the supply route mess.”

“Too bad,” the blonde visitor sighed and tugged out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up, “because as far as professionalism goes with my people, we’re hardly sticklers for the law, but fraternisation is dangerous not just for professional relationships, but personal safety too. Isn’t that right, Gord?”

Gord said nothing, staring at Johnny and their eyes met, only for it to break when the boss looked over Gord’s soaked clothes, wondering about where his coat and hat went as well as the splatters of blood on his ruined white shirt.

“Even if ‘fraternisation’ happens, who am I to judge?” Johnny broke the silence, looking at Derby again, “my men can do whatever they want as long as it’s within our code. Yours, on the other hand, ought to stop messing with my men so that they don’t get killed for your recklessness.” The blonde choked, eye twitching as his snarl drew back his lips and his teeth showed.

“Recklessness,” he spat, “and running a restaurant as a front for whisky imports right near the most policed district isn’t reckless?”

“I ain’t saying it isn’t,” Johnny sighed and sat down again, “yet you chose me to help ya business out. So do me a favour and go before we get any nosy bastards creeping on my ass.”

Staring at Johnny, Derby said nothing, spinning on the heel of his moccasin before storming out and into the street, instantly hit with heavy rainfall. Gord followed him to the limousine waiting outside, only for the blonde to stop him from entering.

“You’ll get the seats soaked,” he sniffed.

“But, Der--”

“MR Harrington,” he interrupts and the brunette’s shoulders deflated, “Gordo, you’re an excellent friend, but that’s all that you are. Go home and refresh yourself. No hooker’s going to be out in this terrible weather. Expect a phone call on Monday on your next assignment.” And with just that, Derby rolled up the tinted window before the tyres screeched and the car zoomed off down the empty road, leading him alone.

* * *

 

The 40-minute walk home without an umbrella from the rain or any money for a cab is surely the most miserable journey that Gord could ever experience, particularly with his cotton socks coldly squishing with every step he took down the hard pavements and uneven alleyways. The handful of people who saw him mistook him for a beggar, but saw the despondent look in his face and quickly hurried away, huddling safely under their umbrellas arm-in-arm with their lovers.

Eventually, he made it to the block of apartments in the rough outreach of the city, clambering up the stairs until he made it to his apartment, hand shivering too violently to handle the goddamn key--

The door flew open before he could turn the key, and a young man stood before him wearing just a pair of jeans and a white vest, looking at him with a crestfallen look.

“Did the plan work?” he asked, foot nudging the door shut and he looked at his face. Gord covered his mouth to cough into his hand, choking out his words.

“Yes… they think you’re dead,” he uttered, but couldn’t stop trembling, “you can move out the city now. You won’t get shot down and with the cash I stole for you--” He gulped but Vance only embraced him.

“It won’t be jus’ me. You’re coming with me too.”

“I can’t. Derby’ll get suspicious. He’ll keep tabs on me.”

“Not if we go to California,” Vance said, determined. “I ain’t letting you go. I’m ready to leave all this crap behind to start a new life with you. That’s why I went through with this plan - for us.”

Gord could only respond by burying his face into the redhead’s neck, hugging him back. Despite the heating turned on high, his body still trembled intensely which made his boyfriend frown.

“Didn’t Derby give ya a ride?”

“No…”

“Shit! Get in the bath right now, you'll catch your death!”

Ignoring his protests and being physically stronger, Vance lifted Gord, carrying him to the bathroom to just place his struggling body into the tub while his free hand quickly turned the hot water tap. Gord complained when more water soaked his clothes.

“Your clothes are already ruined!” Vance rolled his eyes, “you can just buy new ones when we go to California.”

“And what’s there, exactly?” he spat, “from what I heard, it’s nothing special.”

“They can do with some businessmen like you around. You’re good at holding information.”

Gord grimaced, relaxing in the tub. “Unfortunately. And it could’ve gotten me killed. I could’ve gotten you killed.”

“True,” the redhead said breezily and didn’t notice him flinch, “but I’m willing to die for ya, Gord. I love you.” As he said that, he started to take his own clothes off and his boyfriend blushed, glancing away at the white-tiled wall and watching the copper pipes from the bath that snakes into the wall. “C’mon, get your clothes off so I can help ya clean properly.”

“Oh, fine!” the brunette huffed and practically tore his shirt off, throwing it the floor, ignoring Vance raising his eyebrow at him, “excuse me for witnessing a body double of yours being gunned down, because unlike you I’m not quite used to seeing people shot in front of me like an old dog being put down, particularly when it’s someone wearing the same clothes and same hair like you, so pardon me for being snappy!”

The bath was already half-full when he finished and Vance calmly lowered himself into the bath, switching the water off and moved to be more comfortable, facing him.

“I’m sorry, Gord,” he apologised, reaching over to hold his hand, “but I’m here now.”

The bath is tight enough as it is without two adults moving around to realign themselves for comfort, but when Vance finally made it so that Gord sat between his legs, back facing him, they fit like a glove. Like their souls.

They said nothing, listening to the thunderstorm outside the window as Vance grabbed a sponge and gently scrubbed soap over Gord’s back, taking in the soft scent and relishing in the sound of his relaxed moans as he worked out the knots in his muscles. Vance twitched and slowed down, willing himself to not take Gord there and then--

“Something the matter?” Gord spoke up, glancing over his shoulder and he choked out a ‘no.’ before quickly reaching over to the counter to pick up some shampoo.

He can’t help soaking in those sweet noises when he started working some shampoo into his tangled hair, lathering it and massaging his scalp. What he didn’t notice was how close Gord was getting to him, leaning back slowly until he was resting back against his chest humming, finally smiling. Hands covered in the shampoo, Vance just dipped his hands in the water to wash it off before hugging his love around his waist, stubble on his chin slightly scratching the nape of Gord’s neck.

“Feel better?” he whispered in his ear, soap suds tickling his cheek.

“Much,” Gord whispered, hinted with what sounds like a sore throat coming on and sighed, “I think I’ve been out for too long.”

Vance kissed his neck, knowing that they won’t go far tonight. “Then let’s warm ya up. Next time you take a bath, it’ll be in one of those massive tubs in our new home in San Francisco, like what the big movie stars bathe in with their own wine holders.”

“Fuck, now I’m sold,” Gord laughed and reluctantly peeled himself away from his boyfriend to quickly pour the water over his hair and wash the shampoo out as Vance got out first to dry.

As Gord towelled himself dry, Vance got busy tidying their bed before tugging out a spare blanket - the temperature’s going to drop according to the weather reports. He also picked out a packet of cough sweets from the sidedrawer, tossing one of the sweets to Gord and he caught it, popping it into his mouth.

“Cheers,” he mumbled, starting to dress up in the pyjamas, “so… California, huh?”

“It doesn’t have to be there, but I’ve always wanted to see Hollywood and the stars,” Vance paused, stopping himself short of getting under the covers, “you won’t mind, will ya? If you hate it, we can move elsewhere.”

“Anywhere but Texas,” Gord shuddered, “uncivilised beasts with a fetish for guns and multiple children will always put me off humanity.” Vance laughed, settling down.

“But just admit it - you wanna see me in cowboy gear,” he teased and Gord responded by hitting his face with the pillow before lying down facing away from him. Cackling, Vance switched off the lights before relaxing, listening to Gord’s light breathing and the rainfall.

“Hug me, you goon,” he broke the silence and the redhead happily scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. “In all honesty… I’ll go anywhere with you, wherever the road takes us.”

“In that case…” Vance breathed in his hair, taking in the fresh scent from the mint shampoo, “for if the road we take parts us, will you spend that time being called Gord Medici?”

Gord rolled over, eyes wide in shock. “What?”

The redhead tried not to grin as took his silver earring off his right lobe, holding it between the tips of his fingers delicately out to him.

“Will you marry me, Gord?” he asked, enjoying the mix of feelings that he can clearly read in his expression.

He expected the silence to drag on or get kicked out, but Gord immediately grasped his hand, moving it aside to capture his lips into a fierce kiss, practically throwing his body over the surprised former mafioso.

“Yes, you idiot,” Gord whispered and gently bumped their foreheads together, “fuck, yes, I do! I do!”

“Thought you’d come around,” Vance grinned and held his cheek, carefully pressing the silver stud into his lobe where there’s already a hole from a piercing gun. “I ain’t got a ring, but I’ll give you my heart. My life too, until we part.”

Gord just smiled at him, earring glimmering from the streetlights illuminating the drenched streets, the very picture that made Vance wish he had a camera to get a photo of and show everybody he knows that this beauty loves him for real.


End file.
